


Zero Should Be An Imaginary Number, Right?

by SprungSick



Series: Applying Zero [3]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, By big brain I mean complete bs, Forced Fusion, Gen, I am running out of titles and we are on installment three-, Im honestly just vibing, It goes against my honor, Minor Violence, Non-Graphic Violence, Non-consent, Not Beta Read, Not with any of the Dream SMP tho I couldn't do that, Slight Derealization, Slight Dissociation, Yes its me again with the fusion time, fusion au, non-con elements, okay this may have just been my excuse to write some really uhhhh big brain stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:07:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27681191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SprungSick/pseuds/SprungSick
Summary: Everything blows up in his face.Just.Not in the way he expected.
Relationships: Just... No, No Romantic Relationship(s), TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF) & Everyone, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Series: Applying Zero [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2009803
Comments: 28
Kudos: 450





	Zero Should Be An Imaginary Number, Right?

**Author's Note:**

> Yay, fusion time :)
> 
> TW/CW - non-consent, powerlessness, dissociation, detachment, loss of physical self 
> 
> I tried to write fun fluffy antics before deciding to say screw it and throwing my most absurd, somewhat angsty ish at the wall like a plate of sad spaghetti
> 
> :)

“Shit shit shit- suit up everyone! We’ve got a problem!” 

“What? What are you talking about?” 

“Raiders!” 

Tommy grimaced and dropped his materials. Around him, he saw his friends do the same. Ever since the weakness in their border left them open to attack, the opportunistic of the world decided it best to besiege them in hopes of riches. This was the second this week. 

Frankly, it had become an annoyance. 

The added weight of carrying his armor everywhere he went left him irritated by the end of the day. He had grown somewhat snappish, more likely to strike as his constant guard wore him down. He knew others felt the same. 

At least he was prepared. 

He sighed, quickly suited up, and joined his friends in the run to the mountains.

*** 

This. 

This couldn’t be happening. 

Tommy gasped, the movement jerking his head back. If he moved any farther, he would be sent tumbling to serious injury or death. If he moved forward, his neck would become well acquainted with the taste of steel. 

“Well, what’s it going to be?” 

Glaring at the man in front of him, chest burning, he wished he could speak. 

In any other situation, Tommy wouldn’t have spared him another glance. With his unassuming auburn hair - close-cropped, well cared and shining without product - and non-protective clothing, he could go by a hundred different names and Tommy wouldn’t notice. Now, he very much so noticed. 

Open air chilled his back. He cursed himself for straying so far away. 

“Let you into our town or kill me? Uh, how about no.” 

His retort left him slightly calmer, the temporary advantage stalling his inevitable panic. Hands already poised on the ground, he ached for an opening. A moment. Anything that let him materialize his weapon without a kama striking true. 

A short exhale. “Yeah, that’s not an option. It won’t ever be. Choose from the options I have already laid out.” 

Vaguely, Tommy knew that he couldn’t feel his hands. That wasn’t good. He needed those.

When he breathed out, it shook with his shoulders. 

“What if I don’t do that?” Tommy finally said. “What, are you just going to kill me and go on your merry way? Hate to break it to you, but it’s a pretty long path back down - a long path with a bunch of powerful people on it who probably wouldn’t like the fact I’m dead.” 

The man hummed noncommittally. “Are you trying to say that it would be better for me to let you go? That you are, in fact, the one who decides the outcome of this situation?” 

“Well, I wasn’t going to straight-up say it, but-” 

“I have a blade to your throat, kid,” he interrupted. Tommy refused to look him in the eyes. To him, the upper half of the man’s face was a mystery. He preferred it that way. 

God, if only he didn’t try to investigate on his own. It seemed as if every time he decided to do something, he would conveniently forget that he wasn’t very good at one-on-one combat. 

Static lanced through his limbs. He wished he could materialize his friends, not his weapon. 

“Please man, just let me go. It’s not worth the trouble.” 

“Are you going to bring me behind your walls?” he replied sharply. He followed it with a cock of his head, the movement mocking and condescending. 

Behind the tightness in his chest, Tommy could barely move his lungs. Really, he couldn’t move much - his entire being felt so heavy with dread that any action he attempted simply wouldn’t happen. He shook himself and ignored the way it displaced his hair. 

“Well, let’s be real here. Do you seriously think I can get you inside without someone killing you on sight? They’re pretty high-strung, especially right now-” 

He lifted a hand and Tommy stopped. Static crawled up his throat and through his jaw. 

The man moved. 

It was a simple action - just him leaning down at the waist - but Tommy reared back all the same. He froze in his scramble when his hands met a sharp decline, back going shock-straight and mind wiping blank. The kama resettled. 

“Hold still.” 

Slowly, agonizingly slowly, the weapon moved up. 

With light, almost gentle precision, he felt cool steel lift hair away from his forehead. 

Pale lips pursed above him. 

He knew what the man was seeing - he had seen it many times before. Two discolored rings, one perfectly centered inside the other, rested cleanly next to his temple. Although slightly marred and varied in color, the shape was undeniable; nearly everyone who saw commented the exact same thing. Two circles. His weird, somewhat unusual birthmark. 

Pale lips curled into a grin. 

“Oh, you’re one of those things, aren’t you?” 

He hadn’t been expecting that. 

His eyes shot up on instinct, panic and confusion controlling most of his actions. The man had light brown eyes. Slightly too vibrant. 

“What are you talking about?” he responded, voice tremoring and loud. “Jesus Christ, it’s just a birthmark- please, can you just let me go?” 

A breathy chuckle sounded out above him. “Just a birthmark?” 

Tommy sucked in a breath. A part of him began to think that he would have been better off scooting back and falling to his possible death. 

“Oh, I’m going to have fun with this.” 

A large hand slammed into his forehead, pressing in with the goal to touch, not harm. White clouded his vision. 

In a flash, his world went black. 

*** 

Even if he hadn’t fused with Tubbo so recently, the dark void would always be familiar. It felt vaguely like a room or something that had some sort of space - yet he couldn’t find his own body inside of it. A part of him whispered its name. Seeing as he was currently composed only of his conscience, the whisper came across as a scream. 

Fuck.

The feeling of being trapped overwhelmed him, shuddering through the room in thick waves that sent him tumbling. Careening through the darkness he could only scream - no noise left his nonexistent mouth yet his thoughts more than made up for as they spoke loudly, loudly, loudly- 

A pressure hit the back of him. If he were physical, he would worry about a concussion. 

A wall. 

Despite his lack of a tether in reality, he imagined his ear pressed against the wall. He imagined his hands flexed against it as well. He needed to- if he didn’t, he wasn’t sure he could cope. 

On the other side, he heard shouts. Large, thundering steps. Screeching wind. 

Shit. 

He could only imagine what was happening outside, yet his frustratingly clear mind supplied a grim enough image. A hulking giant with kamas larger than life, standing tall on a mountain top as it surveyed its surroundings. His friends, staring up, unsure if they could win. 

Despite being comprised of only his conscience, it took him a frustratingly long time to realize it was his fault. 

His power. 

Wait. 

He could control that. 

He turned around - or imagined himself doing it, he supposed - to see only black. A dark, swirling black that appeared to both lack depth and stretch infinitely. An image of himself shuddering flashed quickly as he continued to scour his personal prison. 

He looked inside himself - the bizarre feeling of his eyes turning in stopping him temporarily - to see a bright trail of white reveal itself. 

Obviously, he began to follow it. 

The thick strands of matter gathered inside his gut as he walked, the particles condensing like stars in a galaxy of yarn. A part of him knew it was his power. Another part of him refused to believe that the frankly gargantuan ball of white settling in his metaphorical body could be him. 

As if in retaliation, the trail ended before exploding to surround him. 

He could only think about swimming in stars. 

Instead of dwelling on the logistics or the way the ethereal strings scattered and lit the void, he focused his attention on the small, inexplicable hole leading out. Sensation pooled into molars somewhere under him, which he promptly gnashed. 

A pause. He tentatively bit down again, reveling in the pressure which undeniably formed a jaw- in himself, the image of an unnaturally white set of teeth appeared.

Biting down again, he dipped himself down and against the opening. 

Strangely, he couldn’t get through. Which he should have expected. All things considered, it was probably leading to the dude’s mind. 

Fuck him. Fuck him. Fuck him. Fuck him. 

Fuck him. 

Rage buzzed through the strings of his reality, lifting and pushing him slightly away. The thought of this man, of what he had done, of what he was doing- 

Several strands were exuding from his abdomen and reaching through the hole. Light pulsed down into the abyss. 

He sank until he was somehow eye level with the strings, channeled all his feeling into his teeth, and bit down. 

And yanked. 

Raw power throbbed against his molars, sensation unimaginable yet so so real. He kept on pulling - pulling until the feeling of hands joined in his vicious tugs, pulling until energy overwhelmed his mind, pulling until memories of foreign sisters and two rings traveled up the bond- 

The ends of his energy burst up and into the void. Relief dizzied him; urgency sent him tumbling forward. 

With his newly formed hands - not even hands, just the sensation of his palms in the detached mess of the void - he felt bright white pool into a familiar form. His javelin - the head encircled with two luminescent rings - somehow had weight in this weightless world. Outside, the shouts seemed closer. More confident. 

He turned to the breach into another’s mind, where incoherent memories seeped through and brushed against his own mind. 

He threw his javelin and caught it once before plunging it through. 

Outside, he heard an annoyed, pained grunt. 

Another thrust into the other’s mind and he heard the grunt again. No scream. No pain. No cracks in his endless hell and no physical form. 

Nothing. 

He couldn’t do anything. 

The thought, just like all the others in the long series of thoughts-which-had-form, dissolved what little tether he had created with himself. 

If he knew he could, he would have screamed. 

If he remembered how he created actions, how he used his thoughts to create motion - he would have screamed. 

If he existed, he would have screamed. 

Instead, he saw all his visualizations disappear into the black, black void. 

Only swirling darkness - shifting and sliding to and fro - and one peak into an abyss. Nothing else existed, nothing else mattered. Nothing else could. 

Nothing. 

Yet.

Somewhere, blinding hot agony blazed into life. A creation from nothing, an emotion so visceral it slammed against the boundaries and thrashed in its constraints. It screamed, roared with intense pain and voiced the sorrows of many, clawed with unreal hands against a nonexistent world, yelled and yelled and yelled-

Lit with unadulterated anguish, millions of beaming white strands burst into motion. 

Power - power so burning it transcended any form - thrummed against the strands as they weaved and spooled around nothing. As they slithered and gleamed and shifted. As they concentrated into one sharp, indescribable point. 

Before it, two rings. One in the other, small and trembling while the larger moved fluidly. 

It shot through rings, through the crack.

The two rings shattered. 

The void exploded into white. 

*** 

He woke up to a world. To a bright blue sky and large trees reaching to meet with it. To his own body. 

To an exhaustion so deep he doubted he was anything but. 

Memories of what just happened - what he just did - surged through him like a chance at new life. He shot up despite his absence of any energy, only needing a moment to realign with his familiar body and recognize how to push up from the grass. 

There. 

Near him - with a body so mangled he had to take a second to realize his chest rose and fell - was the man who started it all. In his quick survey he noticed the figures of other people, along with noises which just barely broke past the hum of energy. They didn’t matter. 

He dipped underneath his skin. Just under the first layer, primed and thrumming against the physical barrier, was pure power. The barrier between it and him seemed so weak, so easily breakable- 

He dipped further and let blinding strands of energy shoot from his skin and into the man.

Once he was satisfied, sure that he wouldn’t hurt him again, he gathered his energy once again. He felt the strings fight against him, crying out to stay in the physical world. Soon, they settled inside his skin. 

He was safe. 

He collapsed with his own energy threatening to break him. 

*** 

Eventually, he woke up again. He felt normal - when he breathed it felt natural and when he felt inside himself he could only find his physical form. Groaning, he pushed himself off the bed he had been placed on. 

“Woah there, slow down. There’s no one else here except me. You can relax.” 

With a quick glance up, Tommy gained an understanding of his surroundings. Warmth, blessedly not all-encompassing, settled in his chest. 

“Wilbur.” 

He watched as the other grinned, his smile weary and eyes tired. “That’s me.” 

His face grew a smile of its own. Slowly, he brought himself up to a sitting position. 

“You can rest, you know. It’s been a couple of days, but we can wait a couple more for you to be fully on your feet. What happened during the raid seemed… taxing.” 

What happened during the raid- 

Ah. 

Exhaustion forgotten, he looked up and met Wilbur’s eyes. The other seemed cautious, as if he were handling something insanely volatile or fragile. 

“Wilbur.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Can you get Dream for me? I have something I need to say.”

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, honestly I just went with what had the strongest imagery in my head, which was angst I'm so sorry- 
> 
> I'm also really sorry that I haven't been posting a ton! I've been trying out work on an original project plus life in general, so I haven't had enough hours in the day to write. I dunno if I actually will/should continue working on my original stuff, seeing as I'm a dumbass and it probably won't work out. But that's beside the point! 
> 
> So yeah, have fun with how I imagine a forced fusion in my head, I dunno if it translated really well-


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